


Book 1: Outset - A Very Unexpected Destination

by MeeshMoosh



Series: Carys [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Beware of Silliness, Boredom Induced Birth of An Idea, Everyone Lives Maybe, I Don't Even Know, Leering, Modern Girl in Middle Earth, More tags to be added, Most Stereotypical D&D Characters Ever, OOC Reactions Probably, Swearing, Violence, magic rings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-10-28 19:52:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17793704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeeshMoosh/pseuds/MeeshMoosh
Summary: When the hum drum world of modern life gets you down, what do many people turn to?Fantasy, Roleplaying...Lord of the Rings, Dungeons and Dragons...One moment of weakness, and a D&D nerd's wish for another life comes true in a way she never expected or wanted.~Summary will probably change for the better at some point. The title of the fic MAY also change!Be gentle. It's my first fanfiction I've really felt I could upload.





	1. Papers and Chill

**Author's Note:**

> I upload slowly, but have a few chapters written, so expect the first two in semi-quick succession.

**_Third Year, Bachelor’s Degree, Fourth Floor Study Space:_ **

Bright teal headset parked firmly in place, one foamy earpiece tilted off her overly pierced ear, a lanky brunette listens both to her tinny music, and the muffled sounds of the boisterous group in the next room.

The eavesdropper is like any other student; a twiggy dark haired woman-child in her late teens curled up in a raggedy green recliner, her lap covered in papers, a Starbucks frap cup shoved down beside her thigh, crushed slightly against the threadbare fabric of her seat. Also like many of the others, she seems to be having issues with concentration.

Dark brown eyes glance about the room she pulls the edge of her eye searingly yellow Adventure Time hoodie over her headset, checking out the other dozen students that pepper the study floor in clumps and loners. Eh, none of them seem to really be noticing the boisterous group within the private room, their headsets and earbuds ensure that, though, she can’t quite stop her attention from returning to them, over and over. 

Sure, she had the vast majority of her twenty page paper done for Pathology, how she ever thought taking that class was a good idea is beyond her, but they just look like they’re having way too much fun. 

Eyes drifting down to the coil bound series of papers the prof had put together reluctantly. Stupid thing cost a fortune for just a bunch of paper and plastic, particularly for something she’d never read herself, and never wanted to read again. Intellectual property rights and publishing royalties. Dry. Boring. Augh.

An abrupt rise in sound hauls her attention back to the study room with its huge side window, her smile widening at the subsequent glares from the other students occupying the morass of seating in the study lounge around her. An inadvertent snorting giggle escapes as she watches the group of twenty-somethings inside visibly flailing their arms and laughing, a tall man-child with wild brown hair raising his arms to the air in desperate supplication.

Dangit. She wants to play too.

Pushing a strand of hair back behind her ear, a wide smile on her lips, she watches a moment longer with deep longing before drifting back to her work. She knew who they were, and what they were doing. One of her long time friends in the university had arranged the room to be available for their sessions, and she envied the fact that they had a whole group that they regularly played with.

The last time she’d asked, they’d told her the game was full. Not that knowing that had stopped her from updating the character she’d been working on for ages. True, her half-dragon dwarf was more than a bit of a Mary Sue, but her character had existed for longer than most of the new rules and systems. If she was anything, she was a old school Dungeons and Dragons nerd, as the Critical Role emblem on her backpack clearly states, or perhaps the bright teal iridescent d20 attached to a chain about her neck. 

“Car!” 

The skinny brunette jerks, glancing up hurriedly as a buxom blonde bombshell comes pelting into the room, a chorus of angry hisses sounding from the other occupants as she staggers up, dramatically throwing herself into the matching armchair sitting across the small round table covered in papers, books, and garbage. 

 

“...What the hell, Jeej, I thought you were studying?” Carys blinks widely, tugging her headphones into her lap and clutching her notebook closely as the blonde leans in close, clutching at her arm, gasping loudly.

“Notes! I need your notes, I need them now, and don’t tell me you can’t!” Jiji blurts, eyes wild, hair a mess over her shoulders, long fingers clutched tightly to her sleeve. 

Carys frowns, dark eyes narrowing, instinctively clutching the book closer, “Dude, you and I went to the same classes and took the same notes, mine are no better than yours.”

“Come on, Cars, PLEASE. Jeremy took mine and hasn’t given them back, and the exam is tomorrow morning! I can’t afford to fail another class!” Jiji pleads, even more dramatically dropping to her knees next to the squishy green armchair, the slimmer woman drawing up her legs and curling up around her notes. Scooting closer on her knees, Jiji thrusts out her lower lip, letting it dramatically wobble as she tries her best to look pitiful, and includes a high whimpering noise, and perhaps a crocodile tear. Letting out a loud sigh, Carys frowns down at the tall woman, the corners of her eyes crinkling with a mixture of annoyance and amusement.

“FINE, jiminy christmas.” She huffs, an explosion of annoyed air escaping her, “Next time don’t lend your notes to Jeremy, alright? You know he’ll never give them back, his dorm room is a black hole.”

A grumpy grumble escapes her, and Carys leans down over the edge of her chair, rifling through her heavy backpack, only to pause and sigh, looking around briefly before huffing again. Shoving her glasses back up on her nose, she grumbles out to her friend.

“I don’t have the notes with me, Jeej.”

Another whimper leaves the blonde, and the annoying woman gives her best puppy dog face, still clutching to her sleeve, and managing to actually get more tears to well in her eyes. 

Damned drama majors. 

Growling indignantly, Carys shakes her off, mumbling as she stands, the hood of her shirt dropping back, “Fine, God, just give me a second to pack and we’ll stop by my dorm to get them. You’re lucky, I was going to pack up anyways. Kevin is picking me up in an hour for the plane, and I’ve already gotten deferrals done.”

Still, that doesn’t stop the burbling annoyance clinging to the back of her throat, irritated at being robbed of these last few peaceful moments before she was to fly out to Los Angeles, the trip one of the last things she was wanting to have right in the middle of her semester, but since it was an interview for a internship at one of the biggest companies she’d ever heard of? She’d deal. 

Nevermind that she was barely paying attention or really relaxing, more so staring at the gamers in the nearby room than her practically complete paper. Almost completely complete. Mostly.

Brown hair flops around her shoulders as she stands, tossing the Starbucks cup into the can next to the chair, and giving the blonde the stink eye as she double checks to make sure everything was in the correct place within her backpack. Yup. Even the stupid jiggly keychain covered in bangles from every anime, Star Trek, and Comic Con she’d ever attended. Check.

Hauling on her puffy kelly green jacket, Jiji gets one more frown as the blonde pops up from the floor, prancing on the balls of her feet in excitement as she lunges for the door, tears forgotten.

“I seriously owe you one, Car, seriously. Just name it, and I’ll do it, I swear!”

“Yeah, yeah, you just remember you said that when I want you to do something you hate. I’ll be waiting...and watching, ALWAYS watching.”

A moment of silence as the door to the exterior of the building swings open.

“You did not just quote Monsters, Inc at me.”

“Yes...yes, I did.”


	2. Handsome Strangers and Foolish Wishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...and then things got interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I upload slowly, but here...have the second chapter!

_**Seven Years Post Masters:** _

Her brain was going to explode. She was absolutely certain of it. Though, not before she is going to be required to remember the graph on page fifteen of the report she’d been handed. 

Footnotes are so nineteen eighties, don’t they realize that?

The boardroom is huge. The walls are pale grey, the faux wood chair railing is a darker grey. The table, grey. The ugly popcorn ceiling. Grey. Even the chairs are greyish. The slides on the pull down screen? Mostly grey and black, detailing masses of numbers and percentages. 

The seven other members of their meeting? Mostly dressed in black and shades of grey. Even Mr. Morrison’s tie is a gradient of grey, his chin wobbling as he blathers on about progress reports, and profitable loss. 

Definitely brain explody soon. Yup.

 _Probably shouldn’t have worn red today._ Carys wryly thinks to herself as she distractedly gnaws on her necklace chain, her eyes flickering down to the brilliant crimson blouse that clings just a little too much to her curves, gently flaring at the bottom with its cute little peplum frills. 

Greg’s eyes had been on her titties from the moment they’d sat down, as modest as they are. She can’t really blame him. The room is like a sensory deprivation chamber, and as the only woman, and only speck of colour in the place, she knows even old fat Mr. Reinholt is sneaking glances in her direction.

As Greg’s eyes once more slowly trail back down her chest, her lips twitch up at the corners. 

Maybe AFTER the meeting won’t be quite so boring...

~

 _Nope. Still boring._

Sitting on a pale white squashy chair in a massive, dimly lit lounge, faint music playing from a live band on a tiny stage about twenty feet away, Carys sighs. Even if her red stiletto is tapping to the music, this is still by far the most boring night she’d had in a long time.

Somehow she’d expected something else. Anything other than a stuffy party, with stuffy people, all of whom seem content to leer at each other, network and generally look like assholes in tuxedos, and swill cheap vodka that the bartender refills the Cîroc bottle with. 

Still tastes like ass, no matter how much blue curacao or lemon swirls are dropped into her glass.

What the hell has her life become? How did a promising apprenticeship come into this? How did her honors in business, and supposed future high rolling, high stakes career turn into this dead end bullshit? The life of a glorified secretary, that is what she is living. 

_Yes, Greg, I can see you STILL staring at my tits, you pervert._ Those dark chocolate eyes flick over the rim of her glass towards the man once more, watching him turn his attention towards a red head with the biggest lips Carys as ever seen. _Good luck, honey. You’ll need it._

The slender silver phone she’d had tucked into her tiny sequined purse makes it appearance, and she flicks through her messages, pausing when she gets to a text from Jiji, asking her if she's going to be back in town at any point, and that they need to do a night on the town.

Sighing through her teeth, Carys leans on her palm, elbow on the slim arm of the white chair, frowning down at the little screen. 

The workgroup wasn’t even scheduled to be back in Seattle for almost a month, and the execs wanted everyone in LA for as long as possible. Some idiocy about needing the whole of them within their main offices to regroup after they’d purchased some extremely profitable foreign offices. The merger of the corporate structure was going to be brutal, and they’d called an all hands on deck last month in prep for it. 

Thus Carys’ semi permanent relocation to LA. 

Lips twisting in a frown, she texts back, thumbs flicking over the keys with a speed native to most Millenials. 

**Syrac: Hey grl. Sorry, not gonna be back in 206 for a while. Work b crazzzzzzy. :CCC**

**Jeegles: Awwwww, nooooo. Whhhhy??? >:CCC**

**Syrac: Work shit. Stupid merger. Sorry bb. :,( Stuck in La La Land 4Cble future.**

**Jeegles: I <3 U. Forgiven.**

**Syrac: <3333**

Smirking down at her phone, Carys tucks the device away once more, trying to figure out an easy way to pass the rest of the night, preferably without getting too hammered and vomiting into her hotel toilet for the rest of the night. Her bosses expect her to smooze for at least a couple of hours, but after that point, she is free and clear. That still leaves her with two more to kill. Ugh.

Maybe Greg might be a amusing alternative tonight after all...

A burst of colour catches her eye from the bar as she lounges, her head whipping around to stare in startled fascination. Holy shit, someone not in a black tux. 

_Who in the hell wears a burgundy tux to one of these shitty get togethers? Bold choice, my man._ She thinks to herself, straightening up in her seat as she gets a good glimpse of this trendsetter as he turns away from the bartender, a mimosa in his hand.

_Oh...oh my._

Whoever this man is, it clearly doesn’t matter what he wears, it will always look amazing on him. Dark chocolate eyes stare blatantly at the Golden God as he smiles benignly down at another of the ladies at the party. He is, without a single ounce of second thought, absolutely gorgeous. Beyond beautiful.

Pale milky skin, gloriously golden hair that reaches down to the middle of his back, flawless complexion. Broad shoulders. Long legs. 

Carys can’t help but swallow the sudden influx of spit into her mouth as those beautiful blue eyes dart her way, rosebud mouth curling into a smile. A smile that is JUST for her.

_Wait, what?_

Blinking rapidly as the Adonis begins to gracefully prowl in her direction, she convulsively swallows a number of times before just freezing in place, the proverbial deer in the headlights. Her internal voice is just screaming in a high pitched squeal as the blonde delicately seats himself on the duplicate of her own seat.

“Good evening, my dear.” 

Panties? What panties? Carys is one hundred percent certain they just melted off and threw themselves into the surf at the base of this monstrosity of a hotel at the sound of that voice.

Trying desperately not to make an ass out of herself, Carys straightens up in her seat, leaning delicately in his direction in the process, ruby lips curling into a sultry little smile as she answers. 

“It was until you got here...now it's even better.”

The man grins widely, revealing perfect white teeth, and a spine meltingly delicious laugh as he sips his drink. 

Well. 

_Score one for Carys. Suck on that, bitches._

~

She couldn’t say she ever expected to be standing on the balcony of a massive hotel room on the beach in Los Angeles, wrapped in a white sheet and drinking Dom while a golden god of a man leans his arms around her, bracketing her shoulders in soft warmth and a smell of pure undefinable man scent.

_God, why does he smell so good? Like, flowers, and something I can’t quite place._

Tilting her head to glance up at the glorious specimen of manhood, she smirks, unabashedly staring. 

“So...you said you wanted to ask me something? After, well…” She grins, “...this?”

An answering smile curls his lips, and he nods, a graceful bob of truly monumentally gorgeous, flawless shoulders. 

“Indeed, my dear.” He purrs, leaning down to nuzzle behind her ear, voice of throaty rumble as he speaks.

“Do you ever get tired of this?” One slender hand motions to the bustling city in the distance, the flicker and dance of car lights on the various roads farther into the city. “This cutthroat life. Don’t you ever wish you could go back to how it was?”

Carys hums softly, leaning into his touch, the faintest twitch of a frown on her brow. 

“Who doesn’t? I miss my friends. I miss my apartment. I miss watching cartoons, and playing Dungeons and Dragons, and watching Critical Role on thursday nights. I miss going to cons and meeting artists, and actors. I miss just...being myself.” She tilts her head back to lean on his shoulder, hands softly gripping the railing.

“I haven’t had time to do anything for years. I can’t remember the last time I binge watched the Futurama, or Adventure Time, I haven’t read any books for fun since sophomore year. How sad is that? I even missed a whole new update in D&D because I’ve been so busy being a ‘serious business woman’”

Snorting loudly, she frowns into the distance. “I mean, honestly? I wanted to go into business myself. Sell things that people need and want. Maybe do some advertising work. I don’t even remember how many times I’ve done questionable things for this company, or when I stopped counting the number of people I’ve fired, or stepped on to get where I am. Shit, I’ve slept with people for business deals. Morally questionable? Damn right it is.”

Her tone, as she speaks, has turned more and more bitter, her still ruby red lips stretching in a smile made of self mockery. “I never expected to eventually mourn my morals.”

“Hmmmm.” The deliciousness rumbles just behind her, his breath making her curled tresses wave just in front of her ear, her hair a glorious mess at this point.

“Would you choose another life, if you could? Something completely new? Where everything you do has a purpose, where you can do good, and truly make a difference?”

Closing her eyes against the sensation, the sweet smell of strawberries and champagne on his breath, she hums softly before answering in a low voice.

“I wish.”

Soft lips descend chastly upon her own, drawing a yearning noise from her throat as he leans away.

“Wish granted.”

“Wha…?”

Before Carys can even finish the word, the world flashes into darkness and she knows nothing more.


	3. Saying We're Not In Kansas Anymore Is Overused.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...And the ball drops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to break this section up into a few parts, or the chapter would have been a ridiculous length.

_Heat. Light. Birds._

_Wait. Birds?_

_Did the TV get left on? Maybe we left the balcony door open._

Carys’ brow wrinkles as she squirms, making a softly complaining noise as the damned bird song gets louder, obnoxious chirping echoing in her ears. Auuuugh. Go away, bird.

A flicker of sunlight courses over her face, and she groans, arching her back as she tries to avoid the light that forces a red glow behind her eyelids. They’d stayed up way too late doing...things, and she didn’t have to be into work until two pm for another meeting.

_Did he leave the drapes open? Wasn’t the hotel a north facing window…?_

One hand flails, trying to find the damned sheet from her bed, vaguely remembering she was wearing the white top sheet on the balcony, and had probably left it out there. Ugh. Still, the duvet should be there, or the fitted sheet. A pillow maybe...

Or a bed.

There is no bed there. 

No. Just soft, yet prickly blades of grass, and warm dirt between them. Slowly, she slides the same hand to the side, refusing to open her eyes as she briefly explores the area around her with one hand. No stray clothing, no bottles of booze they’d consumed last night. No cars in the distance, no honking, no sirens. Where the hell did they end up?

A hard breeze flares over her face, startling a shiver from the prone brunette, the scent of grass and flowers tickling her nose, the solidity of dirt, and maybe a rock or two digging into her back slowly dragging her to true awareness. 

Damnit. They must have drank more and went skinny dipping on the beach, then staggered up onto the grass above it and passed out. She has no memory of last night past the second bottle of wine and falling into bed with that gorgeous hunk of man that she’d met at the party. 

She can’t quite help a grin and a sigh as she thinks of her bed partner, hoping that he’d put his number into her phone, because damn. She would happily spend time with him again.

A louder bird call sounds out, more of a shriek than a chirping song, the sharp edge of the sound cutting through her drowsy haze. Augh. Definitely time to get up.

Levering herself to a sitting position, hands behind her, shoved deep in the grass, eyes squinted as they finally peel open.

_Oh._

__

__

Er.

 _Sky. Clouds. Okay. Expected._

Tall pines, and in the near distance, the peak of a mountain, half shrouded in mist. Holy hell, NOT expected.

A strangled squeak escapes her throat, eyes widening in shock as she stares at the distant monolith.

_Oh, Sweet Baby Jesus on a Pogo Stick, where the hell am I?_

This is definitely not California. The grass is bright green, the trees are thick, heavy pines and that, that is a mountain. A huge mountain. A fucking huge mountain. 

_Did we get soused and get on a plane and fly to Canada or something? My boss is going to kill me._

Slowly shaking her head, Carys stunned gaze stares at everything as she slowly looks from side to side, taking in the heavy grass, the small yellow flowers, the huge boulders surrounding the tiny mountain glade she seems to have invaded in her sleep. 

“How in the fuck…”

That...is not her voice. That is not even CLOSE to being her voice. Significantly deeper with a definite rasp, the tonal differences are striking, a sharp change from soprano to deep alto in one swoop. Startled, Carys snaps her mouth shut, eyes going even wider as she freezes. Flickering her gaze from side to side, she licks her lips, and tries again.

“Um...did I smoke a lot of good shit or something last night? Because apparently I got high and flew to Canada.”

The same low voice, with its honey purr. Nobody answers, of course, and she bites her lip, worrying the soft flesh. 

“Okay. Maybe I’m hallucinating, or dreaming. Pretty vivid dream, but I can see that. Very funny, brain. Ha ha. Time to wake up.”

Shaking her head, she glances down, only to freeze in shock. Those are not her hands. Or her legs. Or body. Holy shit, what is she wearing?

Slowly, she brings up her hands, mouth gaping open in stunned horror. Gone are the long slender fingers with pale skin and hundred dollar manicure. These hands are thick, with chubby fingers, short nails, lightly tanned, the palms calloused and strong. 

Heavy sleeves cover down to backs of her hands, with a fine shirt cuff poking out from the heavily embroidered steel grey jacket. A thick silver band sits at the base of the left thumb. Slowly flipping them over, her eyes immediately lock onto the fine scars of a silvery tattoo coating the back of the right hand. Fascinated, she strokes a finger across the raised lines, and she realizes...she can FEEL that. These hands belong to her.

“Holy shit. I have to be dreaming. What in the HELL…” 

A burst of wind blasts past, and a startled shriek of surprise squawks from her mouth as a full flower bloom lands on her lap, petals bursting in a spray across the fabric of her pants. Those same thick digits flail dramatically at the planty bits, spastic movements spraying a hefty dose of yellow pollen in the air, effectively coating her fingers and making her sneeze in one breath.

Hands shaking, breath gasping, Carys watches with bewildered fascination as a bird swoops past, gracefully flirting with the breeze before disappearing into the heavy grass perhaps two meters away, drawing her attention down to herself as she sits. 

Thick legs have replaced her own slender limbs, pajama pants are now heavy jacquard trousers with a delicate pattern embroidered within the fabric, thick soled black boots that stretch all the way up to her knees, the fabric of the pants puffing slightly over the tops. Startled eyes continue her self exploration, a belly with a little extra padding, ample hips and thick thighs...and very generous bosoms hidden under a significant amount of what seems to be some sort of corsetty bra, a linen blouse, vest, and heavy jacket, the neck of which completely covers up to her throat.

“Holy fuck, I know I’m dreaming now. My tits are huge.” She gasps out, tentatively poking herself in the boob. 

Yup, that actually felt like being poked. She can feel it all, the touch on her finger, the slight squish of her girl, the solid muscle under said squish, as well as the rough texture of the embroidered jacket. 

“Nope. This has to be a dream, it has to be. Or a hallucination. Am I on LSD?” The words tear themselves from her mouth, and she finds herself clumsily hauling herself up to her feet, a sharp tug of fabric down her back startling her enough that she twists sharply, trying to see what is attached.

Clipped by a large clasp, a heavy grey woolen cloak weighs on her, a deep hood dangling down the rear, the fabric warm and solid, toasty from the sun baking it as she laid upon the grasses. 

This is swiftly becoming more than enough. A faint wheezing breath squeaks from her lungs as Carys takes a slow step away from where she’d been laid, staring down at the depression in the turf, right on the verge of a panic attack.

Hauling one arm up quickly, she shoves the heavy sleeve back, and pinches at the skin, HARD, twisting it viciously to the side. A sharp YELP escapes her mouth at the very real pain that radiates up her arm. Shakily, in that moment, all she can do is stare at the red welt slowly burgeoning on her skin, tiny red crescents from her nails in the middle of it.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.”

Breathing deeply, Carys clenches her hands, letting the sleeves slide back down before she makes a split second decision...and slaps herself hard across the face. The pain instantly radiates from her cheek, staggering her to the side with the sheer force of her own hit. 

“OW! FUCK!”

Rubbing her cheek, she grimaces, stretching her jaw and grunting with the burn in the joint. Okay. Hit herself a little too hard. She isn’t going to do that again, one pinch and one smack is enough. Wherever the hell she is, whatever this thing is, pain isn’t going to bring her around, clearly. 

Shivering as another hard blast of chilly mountain air bursts against her, she tentatively glances around, tucking her hands into her armpits in the process.

At first, she thought it was just her here, the horrified realization of whatever the hell has happened stopping her from truly examining the area around her. 

Sitting perhaps three feet away, upright in the grass, a backpack has been set. Pretty normal looking, in shades of black and grey. That, however is not where her attention goes. In the space of a second, stunned eyes settle on something that throws her back in time, an object that abruptly brings her world down to a pinpoint of awareness.

A mask. A very, very specific mask that the stunned woman instantly recognizes from words written so long ago she no longer remembers the date. 

Not that this is her mask, no. Carys, when she was still in school, had plotted and planned for years to have this thing made, but could never afford it. When work took over, it just became less and less important. 

This was a mask of the character she’d been playing in Dungeons and Dragons for the better part of fifteen years. 

The leather contraption sits innocently on the top of the heavy backpack that was doing its own part to squash down the springy green grasses. 

Every line, every colour, was precisely the design she’d sketched out, and presented to the woman she’d commissioned to draw her character. The artist had been diligent, painstakingly detailing out every line of the leather, every feather upon the barn owl’s round face. Even the beak was the precise same colour. Everything. 

“What…?” Hesitant shaking hands reach down, plucking the stiff leather thing from the top of the bag, the straps dangling. Its warm from the sun, and light. Chubby thumbs swipe over the paint, feeling the details carved into the leather, the callouses on her new hands catching in places they never had before. 

Her voice is a bare whisper as she squeaks out, the panic from before truly beginning to crest within her chest, hands flailing as she staggers in circles, the mask clutched tightly in one hand, the straps flopping. “Holy fuck. Okay...okay. I have no idea where I am, what universe I’m in, and I am definitely NOT myself, and why in the hell do I have my Dungeons and Dragons characters stuff?”

Biting her lip, she gasps for breath, pacing back and forth the leather mask hastily plopped back down on the pack as she grasps at her cheeks, clutching at her face, fingers brushing soft hair, and tangling in...her...beard. 

“Holy fucking hell.” In that moment, it all comes to her with a flash of realization so painful that she staggers backwards, fingers trailing up to her forehead, only to jerk them back and wheeze out a choked babble of nonsense. 

“Alright...okay. Okay.” Her new voice sounds pinched, and she flops to the ground next to her backpack, rocking slowly back and forth.

“I remember coming home from the party, and I remember bringing him home with me. I remember talking, and...nothing else. We were out on the balcony, talking. We were out on the balcony, and I was wearing nothing but a sheet and we were talking…”

Closing her eyes, forehead wrinkled in a frown as she concentrates, only to blow out a held breath after a moment.

“I can’t remember anything.”

A shaky breath escapes her, abruptly shivering in the burst of chill wind that bends the grasses where she sits, the feeling of wind breezing through her new...beard...more than a little disconcerting. She could even remember the moment where she’d planned her character to have that beard, how she’d giggled about it. Now...whole different story.

Slowly, she brings her hands up, hesitant chubby fingers sliding through the surprisingly large amount of silky soft hair along her jawline, chin, lip and mutton chops, trailing up to her hair which is tightly bound back in a heavy ponytail that has been tucked down the back of her cloak. 

The beard wouldn’t be the only thing she’d forgotten about her character...

Shaking hands twitch against the fine hard dots just on the outsides of her eyebrows, the smattering of scales that crawl up the lightly tanned skin she can remember from the artwork, getting thicker and wider as they go. Even the tiny little curved horns sit at the top, complete with flat wide scales along the bases. 

“Okay! OKAY! So this is really happening!” She bursts out, licking her lips and immediately recoiling at the feeling of encountering hair, spluttering a moment as she spits out a single silvery strand. In her...former...life, she’d never been one to truly panic, and thankfully that keeps her from tearing out her hair and running screaming into the bushes.

Even if that's kind of what she wants to do right now. Those bushes look pretty damned tempting. Can she faint now? That is what people do...right?


	4. At Least We Know Where We Aren't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carys discovers more about her new body, and figures out where she definitely is NOT.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might be slowing down a bit on these, since I want to draw out the pre-written writing for as long as possible, but for now, enjoy!

_No, we’re not going to go hide in the fucking bush. Calm the fuck down, Carys._

Carys closes her eyes, inhales deeply, hands opening and closing slowly on her lap. Calm. Chill. Breath

No panicking. No freaking out. 

Everything is going to be okay! It’ll be just fine. Totally fine.

“Alright. So. I did something bad. Or really good? I’m not quite sure. I am in my character’s body. In a random place. Yes, I can smell the flowers. I can feel my...moustache on my lip. I pinched myself, and it hurt like fuck. I am...awake. I think. I have to be. I should go back. I have a job, I have a life. I have things I NEED to do.”

A shaky breath leaves her, and she bites her lip, nervously tugging on the silvery beard that curls down her chin, her fingers absently curling the soft strands. 

A long moment slides past. The wind blows, the birds chirp, flying by close enough for her to startle, eyes flying open to watch the swallow careen through the air. A silvery tendril of her hair floats out of its ponytail, curling across her cheek, flirting with the wind. 

Like a slow leak in a pricked balloon, she deflates, utterly defeated as she murmurs, “Really? Was I that important? Did I honestly do anything that great in my life?”

No one answers. No one steps out of the trees and supports her moment of self-doubt, no golden man-god rumbles sweet nothings in her ear. Her existential crisis is a personal moment, and she fights herself not to just STAY sitting here, hide her face in her hands, and give up. 

That isn’t an option. Since when did she ever give up on anything? 

Carys’ stills, eyes narrowing as she comes to that realization. Fuck failure. Failure can suck her nonexistent dick. Wait...She didn’t have one now, did she?

Eyes flicking side to side, she quickly leans back, shoving aside the bottom of her jacket, and peering down her pants. Nope. No dick. Holy shit, there goes her Brazilian. That is a LOT of hair. 

Shaking herself, she brings her thoughts back to the present and away from very strange avenues of thought she really doesn’t need to think of right now. 

Right. Positive thoughts, and trying to figure out where in the Nine Hells she is. With a grunt, she hauls herself up to her feet again, once more starting to stalk around the circular boundaries of her mountain glade, her now shorter legs making the path a rather long one.

So, the question of the hour: Where the hell is she? Faerun? Some homebrew universe? She can’t remember the last campaign she’d been playing, or where, but she knew it was some Forgotten Realms thing under the Pathfinder system. She didn’t even know where her old sheets had wound up, probably in the old box under her bed that she’d buried with all of her childhood dreams.

Wary eyes once more take in her surroundings, and she mumbles to herself as she walks, “Nothing here looks like it would in Faerun. So...my character was a paladin, if this IS Faerun, she’d still have her divine spells. Assuming that everything works like it does in D&D, which I doubt, but...I have no idea where to start aside from that.” 

White teeth nibble her lip again, and she narrows her eyes, staring down at her hands, “Okay...okay, when Gloria did it, they just appeared...she didn’t say anything. Maybe she prayed? I think she prayed. I think it had to be like that. How else would divine spells work?” 

A disgruntled noise bursts from her lips, and Carys digs into the blouse neck, past the buttoned jacket, trying to find some sort of pendant, a necklace...something. Gloria always kept her holy symbol around her neck, she’d only taken it off when things got really hairy.

Thick fingers find nothing, and a brief session of pocket patting reveals the symbol to be sitting clipped to her belt instead. However, as soon as the round of brilliant silver is visible, Carys pauses, staring at the unfamiliar sigil.

Curious, she rubs a thumb across the cold metal, the tightly scripted runes on the metal and the tiny picture of what looks like a droplet of water standing out in dark relief against the pale silver. 

Throwing all caution to the wind, she questions the little thing, speaking directly to it, “I’m sorry, I have no idea who you are? Gloria was a paladin of Lathander, and I have no idea what this symbol is.”

Carys pauses, politely waiting for an answer, her eyes flicking about as she waits, her mouth just twisting as nothing happens. Absolutely nothing. A loud bird chirps stridently in a neighboring bush.

“Well, okay then. Good talk!”

Letting the symbol drop, she blows out a breath, glancing sideways up at the bright sky, and then down to the heavy grey leather pack. 

“Okay. I’m here now. I’m probably going to be here for a long time. I guess I need to get on with it. Well...let's see then. I know you’re a Handy Haversack where Gloria was from. I don’t know if portals, and space time rips are a thing here.” 

Plopping down in the thick grass, glancing over to make sure the mask is still sitting nearby, Carys tilts the pack over, feeling something shift inside as she unlaces the top flap, almost instantly humming in disappointment.

“Well, at least these are in here. Gives me a bit of a hint that maybe I’m not in Faerun.”

Digging a hand into the interior of the bag, she stares down at the pieces that had been laying sideways farther down, her breath leaves her in a soft huff, a bright grin curling her lips, “Well...don’t you look way better than I could imagine, hmm?”

The pale silvery leather of the sheaths nearly glow in the brilliant sun, the fine tracery of etching spelling out words for protection, strength and power. Though, they probably wouldn’t work the same here, wherever here is. Still, she was grateful to have something. 

“I have no idea how to use you, but at least I can just whack at something until it goes away. Hopefully.” 

Carys clumsily buckles the belt and sheath on. Leaning forward, she carefully inventories the rest of the contents. Not surprisingly, a few things clearly weren’t meant to transfer over. All of her Potions of Cure Wounds, both serious and moderate look to be empty, just empty flasks made of clear glass with cork stoppers. 

“Well, shit.” She huffs, frowning down at the finely crafted vials. “Too much to ask, I guess. I might still be able to sell you, at least. If I can find someplace here that has money? What the hell does the money look like here?” 

Everything else, or at least everything she can remember is still within the pack, including her bedroll, elevated tent, sealed waybread, waterskin, dried meat, a heavy bag of gold and platinum coins, and a myriad of other stuff she’d loaded Gloria up with so many years ago. Pity she didn’t have the full plate mail Gloria had worn at some point, but Rust Monsters are annoying as hell.

A pleased huff leaves her as she hauls the pack up, slipping it on under her heavy cloak, having repacked it to her preference. “Alright. So. Gloria was a Mary Sue in a thousand ways, and I know she had a paladin’s companion that she summoned with a whistle…”

Licking her lips, she brings up two fingers, sticking them into her mouth and giving out a LOUD shriek of a noise. Then, she waits.

And waits.

Tapping her foot, she crosses her arms. 

“Alright, experiment two, failure. Good to know.”

Peering about with far more interest than she did earlier, Carys wanders to the edge of the meadow peering down the edge, and through the trees, trying to catch a glimpse of anything. 

Eh...trees, and more trees. Then more trees. A bird. Some rocks. That MIGHT be a squirrel. Definitely a squirrel.

Really tall trees with golden leaves, check. Lots of pine, maybe some oak down in the little valley. The faint glitter of water shines from below, both in the distance and closer, barely visible through the thick forest.

The glint in the distance reminds her of just how badly prepared she was in this place, with no shelter, no water and no real food aside from the things in her pack. She wasn’t completely thirsty or hungry yet, but it never hurt to be prepared. There was no way in hell she was going to let this new lease on life pass over just because she didn’t get enough water or food into it.

Sure, she may not REALLY believe she’s here, and the side thought that she may or may not be in a coma somewhere in a hospital is in the back of her brain, but hell...when in Rome.

Hitching up her belt, she sets out to the closest glimmer of water, awkwardly scrambling over a myriad of boulders in the process, her hood up, the pale white owl mask safely ensconced in her backpack.

Cursing the rocks she trips on for the fifth time, arms windmilling before finally skidding down a line of scree, Carys stumbles onto a grassy bank, accidentally pushing through a low bush and nearly going right into a small stream before she can stop. 

“Jesus, walking paths would be nice. Maybe a guard rail. Some stairs.”

Muttering as she glances up and down the stream, she shrugs, crouching down to peer at the water. It LOOKS clean. Mostly.

That could be deceptive sometimes, the cleanest water actually holding some of the worst diseases imaginable.

Still, beggars can’t be choosers, and she swiftly tugs her water skin out and sets it to fill, eventually figuring out that she needs to squish the air out of the thing before the water can get in. Once full, she tucks it back into the loop on her back, and sets to getting a drink for herself. 

Using her hand as a scoop, she sips at the clear water, surprised at the chill of the stream as she does so. Huh. Not bad. Better than most of the water she’d had back home. 

On her third scoop, a loud yell sounds out farther down the stream, startling her into snorking the water, a goodly portion going up her nose.

“Oh Sweet Gumdrops.” Eyes squinted shut in pain, she coughs, then sneezes LOUDLY the noise echoing like a gunshot in the silent woods.

The voices down the stream instantly cease. 

Ah, shit. 

Well, now whoever it is probably is going to come investigate. Shit, double shit.

Should she run? Should she stay? A thousand questions rip through her mind as she tugs the hood down over her face, craning her neck as she tries her damndest to peer through the leaves. 

It doesn’t take long. A slender figure, dressed in white slips to the far bank, a short ways down from her own perch, they are holding a small silver bucket, laughing to someone out of her view. 

_That person has pointy ears._ The voice within her head states this quite clearly and calmly, a bizarre sense of disbelief curdling through her, at the same time as a very definite confirmation of what she’d been thinking. 

This being is beautiful, with alabaster skin, long white blonde hair almost to her ass, a slender figure, and an eerie agelessness upon that fair face. Every movement is like poetry, every bend and twist a song. They seem to exude power, and grace with every movement.

Okay, definitely not Faerun. At all.


	5. Stealth Was Not Her Class Skill

_Okay, we need to back away...back awaaaay from the scary divine-being-creature-elf thing…_

A shuffled step backwards, and the heavy sole of her boot catches slightly on a small mound of deadfall, crunching down with a faint snap. The treacherous stick under her boot cracks again as she shifts her weight, the noise more than loud enough to draw the attention of the elven woman at the creek, now crouched and filling the silvery bucket with clear, clean water.

Instantly, those dark eyes lock onto Carys’ shadowy form in the bush. With a smooth grace, the blonde rises slowly, delicately treading back up the bank, those tiny feet clad in pale slippers not even making so much as a dimple in the soft ground. There is not a moment that those eyes drop from Carys’ own lump of shadow, and that alone is enough to cause a very distinct shudder to squirm down her spine. 

A frisson of pure fear sets the little hairs at the back of her neck to rise, and goosebumps to prickle on her arms at the feeling of being stalked by the delicately stepping woman. The whole situation, the uncertainty, and likelihood of there being a lot MORE people about, is enough to send Carys straight back in the direction she’d come, likely as fast, and as far as possible. Right now. Possibly yesterday.

Hunching her shoulders, and attempting to sneak away, the dwarf tries to melt back into the bushes, tugging her hood up higher, and fixing the mask back into place. Nope, nope. Not here, nope.

“I can hear you.” Musical. Sweet. High like a clarion note from a crystal glass. The beautiful blonde woman steps into view on the opposite bank, her dark eyes piercing straight into Carys’. 

In one hand sits the silver bucket, the other a slender dagger. 

_Well, **shit.**_ Biting her lip, Carys darts sideways, and abandons all subtly as she struggles through the bush before breaking free, hesitating significantly before awkwardly leaping the small stream. A sharp whining noise makes her startle, an arrow sprouting suddenly from a tree just in front of her.

“HOLY shit!” She yelps, and spins to the other side of the tree, hiding stupidly behind the slender new wood, her shoulders and pack clearly visible on either side. 

“You are trespassing in these woods.” Another voice calls out, a clarion call of a horn to the soft chime of a bell the first voice had. 

Carys hazards a peek around the edge of the young tree, and almost immediately regrets it. 

Elves. Definitely elves. Scary fucking ethereal elves with super model good looks and L’Oreal hair. 

“Come out, and we will be lenient.” The voice calls again, a clear note of command in each word. 

Wide eyes stare at the elf, taking in every aspect of their appearance with hyper attention; the long blonde hair, the beautiful face, the very, very serious look in his eyes. The bow. The quiver. The long blade at his hip. 

_Yeah, that would be death in pretty boy form. Very pretty boy. Me-ow. Damnit, Carys, NOT the time._

Throwing caution to the wind, and apparently her own sanity, Carys bolts back the way she’d come, deking left and right and bolting up the scree with a myriad of stones flying, before leaping behind the first large rock she finds. A faint high pitched EEEEEE noise escapes her mouth during her flight, as she clearly abandons all dignity in the name of survival. Scrabbling for handholds as she continues her undignified flight, she knows for a fact that the archer behind her could easily have taken her down, honestly, at any point in this very unwise decision. 

Something stopped him though, and she could only guess it was the pale woman he’d been with. Mercy, perhaps?

Eh. They probably just didn’t want to have blood on their grounds, or waste more arrows. Probably the arrows.

As soon as that thought crosses her mind, a high snarling howl echoes over the rocky ground, a rough rustling of trees above her forces her to abruptly pelt the OTHER way out of some long latent survival instinct as a massive ugly dog-hyena-thing leaps from the scraggly trees on the edge of the cliff above.

A LOUD startled YELP escapes her lips, body on autopilot as she scoots away, leaping from rock to rock as the thing scrabbles and claws its way down just to her rear, Carys can only thank her own skill point allotment for her life. She always knew ranks in Acrobatics would be helpful, because she sure as hell didn’t have reflexes like this in her human body.

It feels like an eternity as she flees, her footing getting more and more precarious as she scampers recklessly away from her pursuer, the dog-thing steadily gaining ground above as she runs parallel, the random elves below no longer visible.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck.” She blurts as she runs on, boots slipping on loose gravel as the thing lunges, missing barely and careening down the mountain side, its ragged claws scraping loudly on rocks as it tries to kick its way back up. 

“Nopenope!’ Carys yelps as she bolts at a straight out run just as the thing gains ground, the hot stink of its breath across her shoulder hits precisely the same time as her footing abruptly disappears, the relatively flat piece of earth abruptly becoming a very, very sharp downwards drop into a massive craggy chasm. 

“FUCKSHIT!” She screams out just as thing yarps out a screechy howl of echoed shock and fear as it slams into its prey, pushing them both over the edge, its rear legs desperately grasping at the rocks before it goes over.

Carys balls up as tightly as she can, clinging to the stinking fur of what has to be the dog-things back, grimacing as she bowls into stones and walls, spinning in place, feeling her body bruise and cut, just waiting for the final punishing slam into the ground…

The force of hitting something hot and soft, the scream of the beast, and abruptly…

Blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think that Carys is just so fumbling and ridiculous that everyone just instantly feels bad for her...and just doesn't take the obvious shot, despite everything.


	6. No More Surprises Please

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one surprise after another for poor Carys...

Awareness comes slowly.

Slower than when she’d woken in this place, the warmth of the sun, and soft scent of flowers is completely absent. Coldness. Hard stone underneath her.

Now, there is a faint echo of pain along the side of her jaw, a heavy scent of blood, and dirty fur.

Ew. 

It feels like a massive effort to open her eyes, and her body eventually complies, the lids flickering before they truly open. Vision a little blurry, she groans lowly, limbs shaking as she tries to stand.

“Holy shit, ow.”

Once more, her own voice startles her, and a dazed snort escapes as she staggers upright, drunkenly swaying, her voice pleading. “Why...why is my voice different again?”

The tones are even deeper than before, with an almost metallic burr that seems to reverberate against the stones around her. 

A sticky feeling makes itself known on her chest, a steadily cooling clotted feeling, she grimaces, woozily glancing down. Ugh. Had she puked on herself when she fell? How was she not dead after falling that far?

In her stunned state, seeing the ground and her own chest FAR FAR away from her own head is seen through a hazy lense of disbelief. The ground is WAY down there, complete with one very dead, very squished dog-wolf thing. 

Oh, sweet mother of mercy.

Twisting her far too long neck down, she stares owlishly at her own body, and the wide smear of blackish mess upon herself. Um. 

That. That is not her blood or her body. EITHER of her bodies.

Panic rises and bursts over her, and she rears up, slamming into the wall of the ravine, the vague pain in both her side and something on her back a secondary thought to the abrupt shock ripping through her. Unbidden, a scream bursts out of her throat, the noise coming out as a high pitched shriek that bellows out loudly into the air, echoing painfully against the stone and back into her own stunned skull.

Breathing rapidly, Carys, in her second new body in the same day, looks frantically about, backing away from the dead wolf-dog thing. The long slender tail sprouting from her ass wraps around her haunches with a twitch, startling her once more at the feeling. 

Shaking hard, and swallowing down rising bile, the once-dwarf-once-human looks around frantically, trying to find her clothing, her pack anything, before the memory comes back in a dizzying rush. Shakily, she hunches down, curling up in a massive ball in the bottom of the ravine as the knowledge comes trickling back past her panicked mind. 

Gloria. Half-silver dragon. In the homebrew twist of their Faerun game, they’d removed her ability to use a breath weapon in dwarf form in favor of allowing her to transform herself into a similarly aged silver dragon using a natural ability like Form of the Dragon IV. Their logic being that since silvers had been well known to be able to naturally polymorph themselves, it should come over onto a half-dragon as well. It made sense to a point, but...she was never able to be THIS big. A wyrmling at best given that Gloria was barely of age in the sense of dwarves when she’d been made. This? This was Godzilla territory. Given how tiny the dog-wolf thing was, and how small the ravine seems now...this is well past what she’d been able to do while they’d been playing.

Shivering, Carys’ attention goes back to the sad mashed body of the dog-wolf thing lying crushed into the stone at the bottom of the ravine, clearly pulverized by her own mass. It clearly didn’t win in the their little ‘battle’ of weight. Glancing down at her chest, she gags as little bits of fur and blood clot the heavy scaling of her chest, and it's everything she can do not to allow her gorge to rise.

Though, this brings up bizarre thoughts...can dragons vomit? It sure as hell feels like they can, and she gags again, one foreleg coming up to vaguely scrape at the blood and gore on her scales. Ew. Ew. Oh god, it’s on her hand-paw thing now. For a frantic minute, she flails her paws, yes, paws is good, on a sad shrubbery at the bottom of the ravine until her scales are mostly clean and reek of the scent of the plant.

Shivering slender wings, Carys takes slow stock of herself. Not only is she larger than Gloria would have been able to be, she looks almost nothing like a silver dragon from the Dungeons and Dragons Faerun concept art. Well, at least what she can see of herself. 

_How is this worse than waking up as my own bloody D &D character...Oh, I know. I HAVE WINGS AND A TAIL._ Even her mental voice sounds hysterical, the same thoughts repeating over and over...Two legs good, four legs bad!

_Okay. Okay. Lets calm down, and just take stock here…_

Wings, yes, with little wing-finger claws, and four legs yes, but that is where the similarities stop. The whole of her body is slender, with long legs, a highly arched belly and clawed toes. Her tail is slender, with a short series of spikes down the back, a little knob at the tip and a few tiny ruffled spikes just before. No frills. No spines. Scales are shimmery, yes, though shading more so towards pearly pale but other than that...nothing is the same. Running slender paws with extremely dexterous toes over her head nets her the feeling of two long back slung slender horns, with a very slender non-arched muzzle, oval nostrils, with a myriad of slender knobs and small spikes. Big eyes, small smooth arches above and below her eyes. Nothing like what she remembers.

Okay. Well. New reality change once more. 

Shivering hard, Carys tilts her long silver head up, assessing the sides of the ravine, which is far deeper than she expected. Had she not randomly, well...gone super saiyan, she’d probably be dead right now. Check that, definitely dead, she corrects as she glances down at the dog thing once more.

Edging farther away from the creature, she glances up once more before tentatively rising to her back legs, paws flattening on the stone, neck craning up to at least see if she can find a spot that isn’t quite as high as the rest. That...that would be a negative. 

Huffing a sigh, and pausing in disgust as she smears the black blood onto the stone before she tries to do a little hop...and just smacks into the wall with a grunt. Damnit.

Stepping around the corpse, she huffs softly before just...rethinking this. Maybe she needs to think cat, rather than trying to climb up the sheer sides of this damned ravine.

_I can totally do this. Totally! I am a big scary dragon. _Crouching low, Carys tilts her head up, settling her feet solidly before just….LUNGING. Wings spreading wide, all of her effort is shoved into going up and stretching herself out to catch the edge...__

__...and immediately realizing she’d misjudged badly._ _

___ACK! How in the hell do cats do this?!_ _ _

__Smacking hard into the stone wall, her forepaws scrabble at the edge and she flops back down to the bottom of the ravine._ _

__Grumbling under her breath, she crouches again, tensing up even more so than last time, and leaps as hard as she can, wings flapping awkwardly, and smacking against the other side of the ravine as well as whatever unlucky trees happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. This time though, both paws manage to snag the very top of the ravine, a crow of victory echoing from her maw._ _

__Edging one paw over the edge, she sinks her claws into the stone with little difficulty, the narrow talons sinking into handy cracks and slowly hauls herself up, back claws scrabbling on the sheer stone underneath. Low grunts escape her as she scoots her other paw up and over flailing a bit to get a grip as she struggles. Sighing in relief, her long neck and head snake over as well, slender shoulders rolling with muscle in the process. Seconds later as soon as she gets a good view at the top, she is just filled with regrets. So many regrets._ _

__Upon the top of the cliff, arrayed in the trees, on rocks, within bushes, are dozens of elves, if not hundreds, all with bows, all trained RIGHT on her face._ _

__“Oh…” She murmurs, and sinks lower, her shoulders aching as she sloooowly slips down the wall._ _

__“Uh…Hi.”_ _


	7. Just Because You Have Wings Doesn't Mean You Can Fly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to note:
> 
>  _"Sindarin."_  
>  _Carys Brain/Mind Speech_  
>  "Normal Speech." - Westron/English - Carys has a ring that automatically translates herself to the local speech, so when speaking to herself it automatically associates Westron with Common/English. 
> 
> Without the ring, Gloria was fluent in Common, Dwarven, Elvish, and Celestial. I've chosen to translate these over as Westron, Khuzdûl, Sindarin, and Valarin. 
> 
> However, Carys the human, had a deep interest in Old English with a minor in Literature, and thus has a working knowledge of Rohirric. Given, she also learned how to speak Klingon, but I somehow think that won't be super useful in the here and now.

With growing pain in her paws, she hangs there hesitantly, eyes flickering back and forth, unable to settle on a single one of the elves facing her down. She can’t quite help but cower back, her grip slowly slipping.

A sharp chime sounds out from somewhere behind the elves, the noise loud enough to make her twitch, her long head jerking back slightly, and in the space of a second, a burst of pain flares in the delicate skin under her left eye.

A sharp SQUEAL escapes her, head reeling back at the sharp bite, losing her grip and careening back down to the bottom of the ravine amidst a clatter of rocks, and a deafening THUMP. 

“Ow ow ow ow ow.” Whining, she delicately tries to touch the spot that hurts, finding the fletchings of an arrow, and a thin stream of blood deep between the delicate scales. Every time her claw touches near it, she flinches back, hissing softly between her teeth. 

Fuck this. Fuck them. She needs to get the hell out of this ravine, and she needs to get out now, but those assholes aren’t going to let her go without a fight, she knows that now. She needs a distraction, she needs a way out.

Huffing deeply, she glances around hesitantly, before her gaze falls to the corpse of the thing she’d landed on, and an idea starts to take shape. A desperate one, but at least it's something. 

Grabbing the damned thing in her forepaws, she sets her feet and FLINGS the thing backwards over her own head. Watching it soar over the edge, she crouches, and launches herself as hard as she can at the other wall, hitting the rock and scrabbling over with desperate movements, wings flailing frantically as she tries to get away. Across the ravine, she can hear dozens of voices yelling in shock and anger, then comes the faint peppering of painful stings across her back and wings. More arrows, the bastards.

A high whine escaping her throat as she skitters as fast as she can into the woods on the other side, her tail taking down a small pine on the way, only to hear yet more voices, coming closer and closer, the faint thud of hoofbeats sounding on the grass brings a swell of fear into her chest. 

Keeping as close to the ground as possible, she flees towards the river she’d seen prior, wings held tightly to her side as she darts in and out of the trees. Skidding down a shallow hill, she jukes abruptly to the side when a voice yells loudly to her right, a blonde elf leaping through the trees with sword in hand, the blade aimed for her belly. A startled YELP escapes her, and slender wings flap frantically, clumsily taking her into the air.

Most dragons, or even any normal bird, would be able to easily flap their wings and gain flight. Carys, on the other hand, was human less than twenty four hours ago, and a dwarf less than two. The general functioning of wings is not something a human woman has native information about...thus, as a giant flying reptile, she crashes...numerous times.

The sudden explosion of one small tree heralds her first failure, wings flailing sideways as she desperately tucks them to her sides. Leaping over a large rock, she hurls herself into the air once more, flapping desperately to keep herself upright. It really doesn’t work that well.

A few seconds in air, and one wing misflaps, twisting under the force of a hard sideways breeze. A startled shriek escapes her as that pinion folds under, sending her abruptly down...at least this time she hits the water, sending a massive spray into the air. 

Floundering on her side, one wing flips awkwardly before she finds the bottom of the river relatively quickly, the black blood on her chest being swept away by the swift current. That...that feels really good. Large eyes close half-way as she slips farther down into the water, feeling the arrows peppering her back and wings pop out and wash away. They’d barely stuck in, and the tiny pricks of pain swiftly fade. 

As she ducks her head half under the water, she realizes for the first time where exactly in the water she’d landed. A small stream courses down into the water next to her, and on the bank of the river sit absolutely massive trees with silver trunks and golden leaves. In the trees themselves, she can see wooden platforms, lights and a myriad of what looks like homes. Beside her, right on the edge of the water, sit a myriad of little boats, and a tiny little floating dock.

“...shit.” She burbles, the noise coming out as bubbles as she tries to back away from the place she's inadvertently invaded. Scooting backwards in the water, she tries to disappear, of course, that is a pipe dream, and a sharp voice calling out is enough to make her freeze.

 _“DO NOT MOVE!”_ The voice roars, and Carys freezes, tucking her wings even tighter to her sides. Wide eyes settle immediately on a tall elf that strides towards her, sword naked in his hand. Oooookay, scary as hell. 

Carys stays very still, only moving enough to tuck her tail down around her rump. Even that small movement gets a glare and a snarl from the blonde elf and the others that have now gathered around her, given, out of reach of her neck, wings or tail. 

The blonde elf flicks a look towards another blonde as he approaches, murmuring something soft and low. Her guard nods sharply once, and raises his sword, motioning towards a large empty space on the far bank. _“Go there, and stay there until I say you can move.”_

Head held low, Carys nods, and very slowly shifts her weight as she wades across the water, hauling herself up onto the bank, and curling up tightly. She can hear the soft footsteps of the warriors in the shadows slowly surrounding her. Huffing softly, she raises her wings very slowly, and shakes them hard, the water careening off in an explosion of droplets..

Her timing, unfortunately, could be better, and the biggest spray of water dousing right over her rather unhappy looking captor. Instantly, her head sinks, her low voice humming softly, _“Ah...Sorry.”_

The startled expression on the man’s face is laughable, his eyes narrowing as if he can sense the burble of laughter that REALLY wants to pop out of her mouth at his annoyance. She isn’t quite sure if he’s shocked by her apology, or just herself in general...either way, she knows better than to try and provoke the one holding a blade. Clearing her throat, she uncomfortably settles down, one forepaw tucked under her thankfully clean chest, waiting patiently for whatever it is that they’re waiting for.

..Which is a pretty damned long wait, actually. The sun was at peak position when she’d flopped down on the river banks, now? It was well past noon now, and while it wasn’t getting dark, it sure as hell had been at least two hours since she’d been held here.

Long enough for Carys to yawn LOUDLY, a squealy noise that meeps in the back of her throat, and stretch out on the shoreline, her head plopping down with a thump. Slender silver wings waggle a moment, and settle down along her side, acting as a blanket. 

Not relaxed enough to nap by far, she turns instead to paying close attention to the blonde elf that was trying his best to look calm and not like there is a massive dragon laying down less than fifteen feet away. Pretty handsome. Lovely hair. Nice shoulders. Can’t see his butt, so that is kinda sad. Eh, maybe she can get him to turn around?

Worth a try. Rumbling lowly in her throat, Carys raises her head, staring at the elf for a moment before she clears her throat once more, his narrow glare aimed right at her. 

If she could grin sheepishly, she would, but instead, she dips her head down and asks politely, _“Could you pull this arrow out? Its VERY uncomfortable, and I’m not quite dextrous enough.”_

Well. That is one flabbergasted elf. He doesn’t seem to quite know what to say, so she just waits, patiently staring. As she watches, his face goes from startled to closed, and he frowns, _“You cannot distract me, wyrm. You will wait for the Lord and Lady.”_

Carys huffs, grumbling, _“I’m not distracting you, elf. Wait...you are an elf, yes?”_

The blonde just tilts his head at her, and frowns, snarkily snapping out, _“You and I are speaking Sindarin. That would make the assumption that I am indeed an elf.”_

_“...I’m speaking Sindarin?”_

_“Yes?”_

_“Oh.”_ Carys blinks widely, massive head rearing back a little, _“That...okay. Um.”_

That is very, very unexpected, though...given how everything has gone lately nothing makes sense. Why does that word sound so familiar…?

 _“Please, can you get someone to just pull this thing out?”_ She pleads, dropping her head again, flinching as she brushes against the fletchings. _“If you won’t, can’t one of the ones watching me do it?”_

The elf is shaking his head immediately, _“No. Be silent, and wait.”_

 _“Fiiiiine.”_ A low growly HUFF escapes her, and she flops her head down, making annoyed little noises in her throat the entire time, tail flicking agitatedly. His glares don’t stop her from giving a good look over her back, finding only two shafts still stick in her scales. Sighing, she delicately plucks them out, dropping them on the ground with little jerks. No bleeding from those, at least, apparently almost everywhere else her scales are thick enough not to allow the arrows through.

The one just below her eye though, ow. Holy shit, ow. That isn’t coming out easily. 

The wait continues for a short while before Carys gives the elf a sideways look, and starts to edge towards the water. The elf straightens immediately, glaring fiercely, and no less than six visible archers step forward, bows held at the ready and aimed towards her face. 

Sighing deeply, Carys droops, _“Can I take a drink of water? I’m not going anywhere.”_

That prompts more than a suspicious look, some quiet muttering, and the elf gives a sharp nod, stepping close enough to almost lay his naked blade on the tender spot between the broad silver scales on her neck. A tiny shiver ripples through her hide as he steps close, and she very slowly, very carefully moves to the water. 

As her head dips down, lower jaw dipping into the water, she draws in water heavily, wings spreading slightly and twitching with each gulp, wings mantling over the elf without thought. Rolling an eye back to get a glance at him, the edges of her muzzle twitch up. He’s watching the motions of the muscles in her neck and sides pulse with each drink, clearly fascinated despite himself. 

A short while later, one DEEP sigh and a light burp, she finishes, wiping her chin on her leg as she turns to head back onto the embankment, settling down once more with a soft grunt, stretching out her legs before her. He follows slowly, blue eyes wary, blade still naked in his hand. He seems even more on edge, and as she watches, he nods once to another blonde elf, who immediately turns and darts away.

Carys watches him go, head tilting. Of course, her ‘friend’ doesn’t say a thing, though he does stand a little straighter, his eyes going towards the massive trees and the home she’d noticed earlier. Oooh?

Glancing over her shoulder, she perks, eyes widening at the sight of a boat upon the waves. Three slender forms are in the boat, one paddling, two standing. 

_Finally, some action!_ Carys moves to get up, startling the blonde elf into flicking his sword up to tink on a wide scale on her side. 

_“Lay back down, and do not approach them.”_ Again, he taps the sword on her side, and she settles back down, huffing softly in his direction. Cranky sassy elf.

Drawing her attention back to the boat, she watches idly as the pair of elves steps off the edge and onto the bank. A woman and a man, one being taller than the other, she thinks, tilting her head as they approach. Both of them have hoods on, their white robes covering everything from neck to feet.

 _Well, that's dramatic._ She can’t quite help the sassy mental commentary, even in a tense moment like this.

One of the pair steps closer, Carys can feel the cold steel of the sword digging up under a scale on her neck, which definitely doesn’t help the feeling of uncertainty sitting deep in her belly.

As the person pulls back the hood of her robe, Carys experiences a sensation familiar to many people: A horrified swooping sensation that seems to tug her stomach down to her feet, then curl into itself with a painful twist, that hurts enough to draw a guttural grunt from deep in her chest.

 _“...G...Galadriel.”_ She blurts, drawing startled looks from her captor, Galadriel herself and...oh, god, Celeborn. Her wings immediately start to shake, and her huge head flops onto the earth with a deep whump, eyes wide and staring. 

_“I’m in Arda. Holy shit, I’m in Middle Earth.”_ Her voice shakes badly as she speaks, eyes glazed as she tries desperately to come to terms with just exactly what she's dealing with. The Hobbit. Lord of the Rings. Holy shit.

A soft hand presses gently to her snout, drawing Carys from her distracted meltdown, eyes blinking rapidly as she focuses on the beautiful elf standing just to the side of her huge head. Knowing grey eyes stare deeply into her own, a shudder coursing through her at the sheer knowledge and age within the eyes of Galadriel. 

_You are far from home, young one._ The voice comes unbidden into her mind, and all Carys can do is agree, a wordless burst of sadness, grief, worry and fear answering those kind words.

Carys attention abruptly shifts to Celeborn as the tall elf strides close, a much larger hand pressing gently near the arrow fletching in her skin. Even as tentative as the feeling is, Carys immediately closes her eye and stills, a faint quiver rippling through her as she can feel that same hand grip the arrow.

 _“Brace yourself.”_

Inhaling deeply, Carys holds herself as still as possible...and in one firm pull, the arrow is hauled out, drawing a faint squealy whine from her throat. Well, THAT burned. 

_“...ow.”_

The dragon barely has time to react to the pain before Galadriel is stepping close, one hand pressed to the ridge above her eye, her voice a low murmur that she cannot truly hear or understand. The low burn of magic is unmistakable, and within moments, Carys can feel what amounts to a hard...snap...within her, a startled GASP bursts from her lips, eyes dazzled with white light as she abruptly finds herself MUCH smaller, cheeks cupped by the soft hands of the Lady of the Woods, the strong hand of Celeborn on her shoulder. 

_“Um...sorry...I…Apparently coming back from being a dragon is REALLY tiring.”_ Her voice wobbles as much as her legs, small hands coming to brace against those belonging to the rulers of Lothlorien. 

_“Thank you. I couldn’t get back...but…”_ She frowns, tilting her head as she considers, feeling the trail of Galadriel’s magic within herself, tracing it back to the ‘switch’ that would allow her to find that form once more. Handy, that.

A cool hand on her cheek brings her back to the present, and she blinks owlishly up into the eyes of both Galadriel and Celeborn, before smiling sheepishly. _“Sorry.”_

 _“Do not worry, Young one. I am only too happy to allow you to gain some insight into yourself. Come, we have many...questions.”_ The Ladies voice is entrancing, and Carys finds herself nodding before she can really parse an answer, knees wobbling as both her and her husband step back.

Shakily, Carys pushes back her hood, silvering hair a messy cloud around her face. Exhausted, shaky, and still terrified, she briefly watches as the powerful pair start back towards the small boat. The feeling of a strong hand on her elbow startles her, wide eyes glancing up to meet those of the blonde elf that had been her escort and guard. 

Well, probably still her guard. Still, she doesn’t begrudge the help in walking towards the boat, though she does keep giving him the side eye, lips quirking up in a smirk at his rather wrinkled nose and displeased expression. 

_“You totally got the crap duty, didn’t you?”_

The look she gets completely confirms that, and she giggles softly, knees still loose and wobbly, and it's a chore to actually get into the boat with whatever dignity is left within her. She has to latch on tightly to the blonde elf’s arm to stop herself from pitching over the side on the first step.

 _Answers mostly gotten, I guess._ She grumps to herself, and just relaxes into the boat. _We’ll see how this goes…_


End file.
